


Bruises.

by softperfuma



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softperfuma/pseuds/softperfuma
Summary: During the last UR Nations Summit, Asami was an heiress with everything to lose. But three years have gone by, she's lost nearly everything, and her old rival is back in town.
Relationships: Korra/Asami Sato
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Bruises.

It was like a rubber band had snapped. One that left Asami breathless and her ass pressed so hard into the gas tank of her motorcycle she knew she’d wake up to a bruise in the morning.

But the gas tank wasn’t at the forefront of her mind right now.

That space was completely reserved for Korra Ayek, the only child of Tonraq and Senna Ayek, the chieftain and head herbalist of the Southern Water Tribe, respectively. Two of some of the most important people in the world, both of which calling Republic City their home for the next few weeks in the face of the United Republic of Nations Summit, a meeting of notable government figures that occurs once every three years. Indeed, two important people with an equally important purpose.

And their daughter was currently pressing Asami hard into her motorcycle, hands deep in her hair as she stuck her tongue past Asami’s sparkling new lip gloss and straight into her mouth.

“Someone’s a little eager,” Asami breathed, finally taking a break from Korra’s hungry lips. She leaned back to catch blue eyes and furrowed brows as Korra lowered her hands to Asami’s neck and ground her hips close.

“Shut the fuck up, Sato.”

Asami threw her head back in a laugh that bounced off the walls of the empty garage. She kept laughing, eyes up at the concrete ceiling, hoping that no one would catch them this late on the fourth floor. But her laughter quickly melted into a moan once Korra found her way to her neck.

“Never said I was complaining Korra- _ah_ ,” Asami whined as Korra sucked hard, and she reached out for the girls hips, her hands brushing against the engraved whale bone belt buckle that silently announced Korra’s status to the world. Latching onto her waist, Asami pulled her close, as if leaving any space between them was truly blasphemous.

Korra finally made her way back to Asami’s mouth, which the pretty ex-heiress would’ve adored if it didn’t absolutely ruin her train of thought.

Because it’s been three years. Three years since they met at the last summit, when Asami had a different life, a different purpose. When she still had a father worth mentioning in conversation. Back then, she and Korra had been rivals: two girls who fell into bed with the same guy at different times and just generally rubbed each other the wrong way. But then, in the middle of the summit, Asami’s entire life had been ripped out from right beneath her feet. And as she lay in the ground, feeling as though she were drowning, Korra was there to- well, she was just there.

She probably harassed and harangued and pulled however many strings she needed to pull to get Asami’s number, and from then on, she was always present. They never talked about the multi-felony elephant in the room, but they teased and joked and talked until the time difference put a strain on both their voices. And then, a few months before the next summit, something changed. The conversations were more… _charged_. And Korra’s teasing began to border on something a lot more suggestive. They both knew of the other’s interest in women, but Asami knew from past experiences that just because a girl likes girls, didn’t mean they’d like her. 

So Asami brushed it off, and then when the summit was set to start, Korra suggested they meet as soon as her plane landed. Asami’s schedule was full and difficult to maneuver, but she was more than grateful that Korra was able to work with her, able to meet her so late in the garage of the engineering building. She was so excited, happy to see her accidental friend again, expecting to spend time with the girl and pretend that she didn’t still have feelings for her.

What she wasn’t expecting was for Korra to smell so good, or her arms to be so strong. She wasn’t expecting Korra to finally release her from their hug, take a breath, take one good look at her lips, and lean in for a kiss.

Asami could feel her hesitation, could tell that Korra was worried that she had made a mistake. So she tried her best to kiss that worry away, smiling into the kiss before sucking on her bottom lip and wrapping her arms around Korra’s shoulders. And by the way she reacted, Asami did a pretty good job.

But after kissing and moaning finding out that Korra quite liked the feeling of fingers in her hair, Asami’s doubts began to creep in. Because this time around, she had nothing to offer. Korra was one of the most sought after women in the world; a quick online search would yield fan pages across several platforms dedicated to her looks, some even solely for specific parts of her body (Asami didn’t know that though. And she definitely wasn’t following a Twitter account dedicated to Korra’s hands.) She had graduated from one of the best colleges in the south, and was considering grad school while several universities practically begged her to enroll. 

A few years ago, Asami felt like her equal (maybe more, considering their tumultuous first meeting). But now she felt like she was barely scraping by, lucky to get enough scholarships to finish school but still wandering about like some lonely spectre, hoping nobody spotted her, or the old news cycles trailing behind her.

How was she supposed to feel pretty, how was she supposed to feel confident, how was she supposed to feel _worthy_ , when she cut apart, seam by seam, and still felt like she was stitching herself back together?

“Korra, wait, I- maybe… I think maybe we should stop.”

Korra quickly separated herself, and suddenly Asami’s neck felt far too cold for the spring air. She swallowed hard, hoping Korra would say something in response, only to curse herself when she didn’t.

“Korra, I- I just don’t think we should be doing this.” Asami was looking at the ground, worried that her resolve would crumble if she looked Korra in the eyes. So she kept looking down, only catching the tips of her shoes, the asphalt, and Korra’s tightening fists.

“Why?”

“It’s just… you’re their daughter, Korra. And I’m… I don’t want people to talk shit about you just because you’re with me.” Korra huffed at that, and if Asami didn’t know any better, she’d say she was a short ways away from stamping her feet to match.

“Stop it. Stop doing that.”

Asami finally looked up at Korra again, and if she weren’t so distressed she’d laugh at Korra’s deeply furrowed brows. “Stop doing what, Korra?”

Korra threw her hands up at the question, as if it were an impossible one to answer. “I don’t know! Being mean to yourself! Feeling bad for yourself! Asami, I’ve thought about this already, I really have!”

“You have?”

Korra ran her hands through her hair, and Asami wished her fingers could follow. “Yeah, ‘Sami… I know I can be impulsive as fuck sometimes but… I’ve really thought about this. About us.” Asami dug her hands deep into her palm, wondering if her acrylics would snap before she broke skin. “Korra, I-”

“We can talk about it. About everything. But I don’t want you to feel like you shouldn’t date me because of other people saying awful shit about me because I only care if _you_ say awful shit about me and you don’t even do that anymore-”

“You want to date me?”

Korra sighed, a dopey grin spreading across her face. “Of course I do.”

Asami grinned right back, hiding her smile behind her mouth. “Um, okay. Yeah, we can talk… maybe later though. Is that okay?” She let her question drift into the space between them, Korra nodding sharply in response. A heavy silence soon fell at their feet as they stared at each other, only to be broken by Korra’s voice and a frown.

“Can I please kiss you now?! I wanna kiss you again.”

Asami laughed, leaning forward to catch her breath at the surprise. After righting herself, she leaned back against her motorcycle again, opening her arms wide for the girl before her.

“Fine, Miss Grumpypants, I’ll kiss you again.”

Korra frowned once more, stepping fast to rid themselves of the distance between them. “I wouldn’t be so grumpy if I was tasting you right now.”

“ _Fuck._ ”

Asami was right. When she woke up in the morning, there was a small bruise on her backside from being pressed up against the gas tank for so long.

But it was nothing compared to the bruises littering the skin between her legs.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one word prompt fill from Tumblr. The prompt was 'motorcycle', and I definitely took a lot of liberties with it.


End file.
